


Give Me Hope In Silence

by westandvigilant



Series: until the Earth is free [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, Cullenlingus, F/M, NSFW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-03 11:19:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5288738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westandvigilant/pseuds/westandvigilant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young, married woman yearning for adventure and a dashing Commander. You know what happens next.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> basically i’ve watched Crimson Peak, Pride and Prejudice, Jane Eyre, Anna Karenina and Madame Bovary in a month’s span and i was thinking about my canon Inquisitor and Cullen and this just kinda happened.

i.

“Elin.”

Maker, she relished the way he said her name. His common southern accent. The need that spiked it, made it rougher in the dark, like calloused palms across her hips. Bare hips. Soft hips. Hips that craved his touch.

A gasp escaped from her lips as he hooked her leg with his arm and gripped the sturdy headboard. With each thrust she felt complete and obscene and so perfect and so very, very wrong. Another cry filled the air of the room, lost in the midnight shadows. He hushed her with his own mouth, begging her silence.

Then Cullen and the darkness swallowed her whole.

—

He was a nice man, her husband. And handsome. He had money and station and a true home. While growing up in the Ostwick Circle School for Young Girls, Elin had wanted for nothing more.

As a young girl, she had withstood the coldness of her upbringing. Years in the the Circle’s cold stone halls with naught but the Head Master’s cane and her dreams of marriage to keep her company. Marriage meant freedom. A chance to feel the sun and the grass; or climb atop a horse and feel its power as she galloped far and away.

It was either marry or live in the Circle forever, first as a student, then as a teacher.

Marriage meant adventure.

She was pretty, she knew, with features that bore strong resemblance to her highly esteemed family. Cornflower blonde hair. Large, feminine eyes and an aristocratic nose. Her mother’s sensuous lips and her father’s strong jaw.

Yes, Elin would have made many Lords a lovely wife, if she had never manifested the magic buried deep in her noble bloodline.

 

ii.

It was at one of her husband’s lively parties that she had met Commander Cullen Stanton Rutherford.

She had moved through the party as a ghost. A gracious smile here, a quiet curtsy there. Status climbing ladies clambered for her attentions, but Elin had a hard time listening to their idle prattle.

Then she saw him, talking with her husband and his associates. A tall blond man with a tight lipped smile accented by a rakish scar, his hands clasped behind his back; medals adorned his chest like dragon scales. He looked every bit as uncomfortable as she felt. Slowly his amber eyes met her gaze and a blush thundered over her cheeks.

Elin looked away as if burned.

Her husband’s booming laugh invaded her ears and suddenly he was at her side, touching her elbow to lead her toward the man that would spell her ruin.

—

She smiled the day she had heard the news. A letter from her mother announcing that she had secured a marriage contract for her long forgotten daughter. Strings had been pulled by a distant Aunt and Elin was to be married within the fortnight to a man she’d never met.

Elin crushed the letter to her chest and, for the first time since she arrived at the Circle, she prayed to the Maker.

“Please,” she prayed. “Please, let him be the one.”

 

iii.

The crack of hooves against pavement startled her. She looked up from her work, the newly planted flower bed warm and inviting beneath her. It had provided a necessary distraction, but left her visage in quite a disarray.

Elin raised her hand to the sun to see the source. It was clear before the rider reached the house that it was the Commander. The straight back and determined ride of someone accustomed to military precision. Not to mention, the sun glinting golden off his hair. She stood to receive him, catching the bead of sweat dribbling down her cheek with the back of her hand.

She made a mental note to disparage her husband the next time she saw him for neglecting to mention the company.

He dismounted his horse swiftly and strode across the ground on long legs. His presence had become very nearly commonplace at the estate in the past few months. Elin’s heart began to hammer at her throat even though she knew how the encounter would transpire. Elin would smile her practiced sweet smile and the Commander would be respectful and polite to the point of coldness. Then she would spend all the hours until his next visit wondering what she did wrong and why it mattered so much to her.

When he stopped a good length farther than respectable distance from her, he bowed, but seemed unwilling to make eye contact. Perhaps it was a hangover from his years as a Templar, though he seemed chummy enough with other mages.

“Commander,” she greeted with a small curtsy. “As delighted as I am to receive your company, I am afraid my husband is not due to return home until sundown at the earliest.”

The Commander nodded, “My sincerest apologies, I will return –”

“Oh, nonsense,” Elin heard herself say. “By the time you get back to town, you will need to turn back around. For the sake of your sanity and your horse, I implore you to come and wait inside.”

He seemed to think about it, his eyes darting quickly to her face before steeling once again to the middle distance. “I…” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “I would hate to–”

“Please, you know my husband wouldn’t hear of me turning away the Commander of Ferelden’s armed forces. Wouldn’t you care for a cup of tea?”

Her welcoming words did nothing to sway him. His face was granite, impassive and uncaring. “I thank you for your kindness, my Lady, but no.” Elin then watched as he turned on his heel, mounted his horse, and left without so much as a backwards glance.

—

Her wedding night was nothing like she imagined it would be. All those nights of longing for someone’s touch, someone’s love had set her up for a nasty bout of disappointment.

Yes, her husband was kind. He left chaste kisses on her lips, caressed her face with elegant, tapered fingers. Lavished her with sweet words and compliments that made her blush. He had treated her with more kindness than most virgin brides are met with on their first bedding.

But there was no fire. No passion. No love.

He parted her knees quickly, spent himself between her legs, and retired before Elin had time to understand what her life would truly become.

 

iv.

She loved the way he always called her _my Lady_. It was the one concession she clung to when she feared his indifference. Only common born folk called noble women by that title and now that he was a Commander, he had every right to call her by her husband’s family name.

And he never did. _My Lady_. Always _my Lady_. A possessiveness she intended to pretend was there. She knew what her life was, so she expected the Maker to just grant her that small delusion.

It was those words that greeted her when she hid in the study during a particularly rambunctious ball. A Qunari and his band of mercenaries had been invited and, while they were nothing short of nice, they had drunk nearly a third of the wine cellar and it had begun to show.

The Commander sat in a dimly lit corner of the room, sprawled out in a wing-back chair next to the chess board. A bishop dangled precariously between his thumb and forefinger. Tailcoats left on the desk, cravat loosened; his words had been whiskey soft, she realized.

“Commander,” Elin fussed with the headband that she knew was still in place. “I did not think this room to be occupied. I’ll… You know, if you set that bishop there, you’ll have a check.”

“I didn’t know you played.”

“I am afraid you do not like me overmuch, Commander." She laughed nervously. "So you can hardly blame me for keeping such a secret.” 

His lips quirked with an amused smirk. “You are correct about one thing, yet if I place the bishop here instead,” he set the piece down as illustration, “I’ll have a checkmate in three turns.”

“Quite. I will leave you to your game.”

“Care for a game with me?” His words were fast and unexpected to the both of them, if his raised brows were any indication.

“Oh, I-I…” Her heart yearned to be in his presence. He felt dangerous and it terrified her. “I need to check that Theon has been sent to bed. His father can’t be bothered to deal with such things, unfortunately.”

Elin turned to leave before she had finished her sentence, knowing that she needed to flee that room as soon as possible. But then she felt a large hand on her own, gripping her with thick, battle gnarled fingers. She was so close. She could have just reached out and touched his cheekbones.

“I am afraid I like you very, very much, my Lady.”

She felt that touch for months.

—

After their son’s birth, her husband all but ceased visiting her as a woman needs to be visited.

Theirs was not an unhappy marriage. He was a good father. They laughed over the dinner table. He gave Elin every freedom. Sought her advice on every matter. Even invited her to his political meetings.

It was true, she did love him. In a way. But not the way a person craves. Not in a way that gives the soul the nourishment it needs to survive.

 

vi.

Moonlight fell through the windows in silver shafts. It lit her way so sufficiently that she was able to navigate the labyrinth of hallways without carrying her own fire. She did, however, hold a small lick of flames in her hand, simply because it felt good to do so.

The light from her flame fell over the Commander’s body gradually, revealing him in increments. First it was the bare bicep cording under scar peppered skin. Then the broad plate of his chest, sweating and heaving with labored breath. And finally his face, widened eyes in a pained expression.

Her gasp was loud and sharp. It sliced down the hall. Her astonishment at his state of dress - no shirt, simple breeches and riding boots - was quickly replaced by the fear that something was wrong.

“My Lady,” he panted. “I apologize it’s just…” He shook his head as if to regain clarity. “My quarters were so hot, I–”

Elin had overheard of his effort to be free of lyrium addiction. She had no clue that it was so painful for him. Against her better judgement, she offered to cool down his room with a quick spell. And against her assumptions, he accepted.

And she should have known, should have felt, that she could not trust herself in such close vicinity to him. She should have known that she could not inhale his scent and not need to feel him. Need to feel his fingers burning on her again.

“Surely your husband is missing you in his bed,” he had said with a rueful smile.

“My husband and I haven’t slept in the same bed for five years,” she had replied, hunger clear in her eyes.

She never knew who made the first move. Maybe she laid a cool hand to his brow to give him some relief. Maybe he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Either way, it ended with their lips crashing together. The dizzying feeling of completeness. Fingers gripping her, wanting her, needing her. Their clothes pooled on the floor as he lifted her up and fucked her thoroughly against the wall.

—

A woman can only live upon a shelf for so long. Eventually, she demands to come to down.

To feel.  
To live.  
To destroy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is where the Cullenlingus lives.

vii.

It continued for months, in letters and stolen moments, never fully forming but enveloping them all the same.

After negotiations and discussions were over, after parties had ended, they stole into his room and explored each other. They settled for knowing glances and hidden smiles during the day, but the night. Oh, how the night was punctuated by their writhing bodies.

On the last night, she had found him in the study once more. Again, he worried over the chess board with alcohol loosened limbs. His grin when she entered was nothing short of brilliant.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, my little Elin?”

His shirts sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, drawing her gaze to his forearms as she moved deeper into the room. As soon as she was within reach, he captured her hand in his own. He turned it over and kissed the pulse point of her wrist.

“Cullen!” Elin said again, this time in a stage whisper. She took a hurried glace toward the doorless entry way. “We can’t act like this–”

“Come now, everyone is asleep in their beds.” He stood up and pulled her into his arms. Her heart skipped a beat and her insides throbbed at his boldness. Twirling her around, her back snug against his chest, she felt his length hard against the small of her back.

“And I want to taste you,” he growled. His fingers ticked down her spine and crept under her dressing gown. Their gasps twinned when he found the apex of her thighs, wet and needy through the thin fabric of her chemise. “I want to taste you here.”

Elin’s face grew hot. “I-I… I never–”

He chuckled at her stammering. “Then please, my Lady.” A rough rub at her pearl. “Allow me to right this wrong.”

She followed mutely as Cullen guided her to the desk - her husband’s desk, with it’s treaties and doctrines - and lifted her to sit on it. With a methodical, unhurried pace, he kissed her, let his tongue lap into her mouth. Slow and inevitable as the tide. His fingers trailed down her front, working open her dressing gown and rucking her chemise up around her hips.

Cullen pulled away from her mouth, placing a wet kiss into the hollow of her neck before yanking down the neck of her chemise to reveal one full breast. He tongued the erect pink nipple fully then trailed further, leaving Elin with nothing to do but mewl at the pain with which it tightened at the loss of his mouth.

Laved. That’s only proper word for what he did when he found her slit. He laved his tongue across it, moaning with such relief that the breath lodged in Elin’s throat. Looking up at her, he dragged the flat of his tongue over her clit and a bolt of lightening shot through her veins. Her hands fisted in his hair of their own accord, searching for something tangible to tether her to this plane. She could actually feel him smile against her skin when he closed his eyes and set to work on her.

The noises were wanton and awakening. Tears nearly sprang to her eyes. She looked up to the ceiling, sending one more prayer to the Maker. A thank you for allowing her to find this man. For giving her this man that worshiped her in the way she needed to be worshiped. A man that found succor between her thighs and let nothing stop him from revealing to her the pleasure that could be found.

A gentle thrum begun in her cunt and worked its way to her chest. She felt as if she was about to explode and the tears finally did fall. For this, this was what the poets wrote about and the bards sang about. This was the divinity for which flesh was created and Cullen was about to bring her there.

Her head rolled to the side and she opened her eyes, and as the peak built inside her, she was able to make out her husband’s cross armed silhouette leaning against the wall. A pair of expressionless slate grey eyes regarded her climax flushed face.

“Dorian.”

Cullen’s ministrations halted as he peered up at her with dewy eyelashes.

“Dorian,” she repeated, more for Cullen’s benefit than her own. Cullen shot up from between her legs, eyes wide and mouth agape. “We-we… I can–”

“Explain yourself?” Dorian bit, his immaculate enunciation sharper than ever. “I have eyes, my darling. I do not need this particular situation explained to me.”

“Dorian,” Cullen tried. A single golden curl had fallen across his forehead. “Let’s talk about this.”

“Oh, I have no intentions of talking to the man with my wife’s cum on his face.”

Cullen automatically wiped his lips, but it was in vain. The damage was already done. New, hot tears welled in Elin’s eyes.

“Dorian, please–”

Her husband inhaled sharply though his nose and sighed, eyes now alight in a way she had never seen directed at her. If it was ever a wonder how he secured his position as ambassador to the Imperium, it was clear now. It made her blood run cold.

“Elin, don’t.” It was exasperated. Sad. All three stared at each other in silence before Dorian slowly pushed off the wall and sauntered out of the room.

Elin immediately pitched forward, burying her face in Cullen’s chest. For a moment it seemed that he didn’t know what to do, until his reassuring arms circled around her. He quietly tugged her chemise back into place, pressed a kiss onto the top of her head and let her cry.

“Cullen,” she looked up at him, fingers clenched in his shirt. “I must go speak with him.”

“Let me go–”

“No, I need to do this alone.”

His arms tightened around her and his jaw clenched. “He’s a magister Elin, I won’t let you–”

“He is a good man,” she said desperately. “He is a kind man. Dorian has been better to me that any girl from the Circle could have hoped. And I have repaid him with this.” Elin stood up and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I must go ask his forgiveness. For the sake my son.” Pulling her dressing gown together, she walked towards the door.

Cullen winced, but nodded. He swallowed and, lacking the strength to stand, braced his hands on the desk.

She stopped at the entry way and smiled, a sad forlorn thing made distant by the shadows.

“I love you. You know that, right?”

He smiled. “I love you, too.”

—

She found him in Theon’s room. Leaning against the doorway, a spark of veilfire floated above him and casted a blue glow over their son’s sleeping form.

Elin padded in silently at Dorian’s side, letting her eyes fall upon Theon as well. Theon was the best thing she had ever done in this world, and it pained her how that fact made her both happy and sad. The boy had his father’s dusky skin and her blue eyes. His wit and her compassion.

He would do great things one day.

The shadows made Dorian’s aquiline profile harsh, but his eyes told a different story.

“I find that I am quite cross with you, Elin,” he finally whispered. He still had yet to look at her.

The word “cross” caught her off guard. Cross made it sound like she had forgotten to send out invitations or order liquor for one of his parties. Not like she had taken his trust and scattered it to the wind.

“Venhedis!” He cursed. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Now, thoroughly taken by surprise, she turned to face him and found him meeting her gaze in full. Her well-groomed husband’s cravat hung low on his chest, his waistcoat completely unbuttoned.

“I just,” she choked on tears, “I just needed to feel something.”

Dorian sighed and moved his hands to his hips. “Do you love him?”

The words wouldn’t come. All she could do was nod tearfully, lip between her teeth. Dorian sighed again and ran his fingers through his hair.

“I never could have given you what you needed,” he murmured. “Perhaps it was unfair of me to agree to marry you, but I needed an heir and you needed to get out of the Circle. It seemed like a good fit. Yet, I suppose I was lying to myself from the very beginning.”

Her breath hitched. “I’m afraid I don’t follow you.”

“Oh, sweet Elin. I…” His silver tongue twisted uncharacteristically, the next word dying completely. He sighed again and looked her straight in the eye. “I prefer the company of men.”

Elin blinked. The revelation dawned on her, moments zipped before her eyes. Dorian’s distracted stare on their wedding night. His hand lingering at a friend’s shoulder. His eyes following the Iron Bull from one side of the room to the other.

“Always?” She asked, though she knew the answer.

“Always,” he confirmed. “Are you angry?”

“Have you been with others after we–”

“Yes.” He cut her off, having the grace to look ashamed. “I tried for a very long time, but I just couldn’t…”

“You could have told me.” She looked to Dorian to find him speechless. With a mirthless laugh, Elin smiled. “We were doomed from the start weren’t we?”

“It would seem as such, yes.”

They stood in silence for longer than either of them had intended, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of their son’s chest as he slept.

“Well, we did one thing right.” Elin finally admitted, finding Dorian’s hand at his side and squeezing it. He returned the comfort with a sigh.

Any more words were unnecessary.

 

viii.

It took all of Dorian and Cullen’s combined pull to dissolve the Pavus marriage. In the end, both parties split amiably, though there was no way Elin could be allowed any of House Pavus’ considerable funds.

That was all and well, as she left the Pavus estate to run straight into the arms of Ferelden’s Commander. He filled her life with fire and passion and love, and in turn she gave him two daughters. Though her first son was never far away and benefited from the love of two families.

As Elin Rutherford, she was able to aid the King in reforming mage relations and strengthen diplomatic relations to the Imperium. She was able to travel, love and find her adventure.

These facts may seem irrelevant, unneeded and unnecessary. The story was finished, the arc complete.

But lives do not work that way. Sometime we need to know that the good can come. That it will always outweigh the bad. It’s important to know that Elin may have needed Dorian, but she loved Cullen. And that is what set her free.


End file.
